The Cabin
by Validor
Summary: On a mission interlude, Duo flirts with Trowa and alcoholism, neither of which pleases a Zero-manic Quatre. 3 4, Duo POV, post-EW.


Gatlinburg

The Cabin

What happens in the mountains, stays in the mountains.

Yes, it's another safehouse fic! Now with 75 more cussing! BTW, this isn't one of those "everybody sleeps with everyone else" fics. It's more of a "nobody's sleeping with anybody so everybody's anxious" fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing or Wild Turkey or anything else mentioned in this piece of trash.

Heads up: Cussing. Drinking. Violence. Card games. Hot tubs. Sap. Angst. And…stereotyping mountain folk? Incoherence on the part of whoever the hell was in charge of the plot. Uh, whoops.

Yeah, so pretty much everything you would not want to see in a fanfic.

General advice: Don't play poker with Trowa. Also, this is post-Endless Waltz by about five years or so.

Duo POV

I was almost to the paved road when the first explosion hit. Out of habit, I crouched even lower on the bike, even though there was no way any debris would make it this far. For a moment, the sound of my engine and the feel of gravel slinging up against my legs were lost in the roar of fire and crashing walls. Then there were sirens. I willed the bike to go faster, but no dice. I wondered how fast they'd be able to come after me, and looked to the side of the road. I'm a good pilot, but I'm no Luke Skywalker. I wouldn't make it past the pine trees to either side of me. I would have to stick it out and try to make it to the main road. Hopefully I had some sort of back-up on this thing and there wouldn't be any roadblocks on the way to the safehouse. I knew Quatre and Trowa had been heading down this way, and it was a safe bet Quatre's job had been to fuck up the local authorities. Lord knows what Trowa was doing. Strange how he happened to volunteer for missions only when Quatre was involved. We weren't supposed to know the details of other missions, so either Quatre was "accidentally" letting it slip, or Trowa was hacking HQ. Tsk tsk. Why hadn't I noticed that?

The usual protocol on this type of mission was for an agent to make an investigation, put some pressure on the alleged offenders, maybe set up some fines. Of course I never got involved in that shit. I was only called in when they couldn't make charges stick, or when the operation was too big for the politicians to handle. Preventers is supposed to be a paragon of peaceful problem-solving (nice alliteration, huh?), but sometimes you just need to bang some heads. Somebody's illegally manufacturing weapons? Blow the shit up. This way—my way—the job got done and the bad guys knew who did it. Piece of cake.

Briefly I wondered if anyone had been killed in my little explosion. I had lured the guards outside, but there had been no time to check the building. Heero would have made time, I thought, but then quickly tried to think of something else.

A little ways down the paved road, I saw a country store and parked the bike around the back. There was a little old man behind the counter who gave me a dirty look as I came in. It was the hair. Man, I hate the south. Country of my forefathers notwithstanding…America had been pissed about the forced disarmament, so I'd been spending quite a bit of time down there. Especially in the country and the mountains. Why couldn't the dissenters have collected themselves in the city, instead of these crappy, backwards, closed-off middle-of-nowhere…

The clerk was still glaring at me. I grabbed a Pepsi out of the drink case in the back and took it up to the counter.

"You hear that explosion?" the clerk, looking at me out the corner of his eye.

"Yeah," I said brightly. "What was that? You guys got some construction going on?"

"Nope." The old man scanned the Pepsi bottle and slowly counted the money I gave him.

"Hey, anyplace I can get some beer around here?"

If there's one thing I've never been mistaken for, it's a cop. After studying me for a minute, the old man said, "Back down the road a ways. There's a sign for Johnson's Holler, take a left. Man in the house with the satellite dish might know something about it."

Whoo-hoo. "Thanks," I said. "How do I get to Kingston from here?"

He told me, but I didn't bother listening. The last thing I was going to do was get on the highway and head to a town. Hopefully, if the cops or anybody else stopped here, this old guy would tell them that's what I'd done, and I would be safe hiding out in a cabin. With Quatre, yay! I was pretty excited about seeing him. Trowa, not so much. I was still holding a grudge against that bastard. I mean, I put up with him because Quatre seemed to like him so much, but he wasn't too high on my list of awesome people to hide out in the mountains with.

It was way dark and the road was damn lonely by the time I'd finished my business with the moonshiner and got back on track. Initially I missed the turn for the cabin and had to ride around for a bit before I figured out what was going on. After that, it was all uphill, and only mystery on either side of me. I took the turns as fast as I could because what the hell, why not. Finally I saw a light, and sure enough, there was a square little wooden thing with a porch on the front and a chimney sticking out of the roof. Quaint. I parked the bike next to the car that I assumed belonged to Quatre and went inside.

I walked down a short hallway (one door on each side, probably bedrooms) and entered an open room with a kitchen to the left and a couch and a few chairs to the right. Quatre was sitting on one end of the couch, Trowa was standing next to him with his hand on the armrest, and I had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that I had interrupted a "moment."

"Hey, guys," I said. "Long time, no see."

"Duo!" Quatre stood up. "We were worried about you."

I shrugged. "Ah, no problems, just a little pit stop…" I dug into my backpack and pulled out the bottle of moonshine. "Ta-da! The county may be dry, but damned if we have to be!"

Trowa smiled and Quatre said, "What is that?"

"Nevermind," said Trowa. "It went well?"

"Oh, sure, nimmu kanryou or whatever it is that Heero says. You guys?"

"Ninmu kanryou," said Trowa.

"You heard from him at all?"

"Nope," said Quatre, but Trowa nodded.

"Yeah, where is he?"

Trowa shrugged. "It was a while ago."

Well, thank you very much, Mr. Information. I wondered how long a while was. Had Trowa heard from Heero more lately than me? Why was Heero talking to Trowa? Why hadn't I heard from him?

"Trowa made some rice and chicken if you want," said Quatre. "It's the refrigerator, I can heat it up if you like."

"Hey, thanks, man, but first, where should I put my shit? I've only got the one bag, but I don't feel at home until I've thrown crap all over the place, you know?"

"The bedroom on the left. Trowa volunteered to sleep on the couch."

"My own room? Dude, you're too nice." I knew it wasn't for me, though—it was for Quatre. For some reason Quatre lets Trowa get away with sacrifices nobody else could. Maybe he just doesn't want to argue. Maybe he likes that Trowa does shit like that for him. I wish someone would do it for me, I tell you what.

I unpacked my spartan supplies—an MP3 player, change of clothes, laptop, wallet, toothbrush, hairbrush— and thought seriously about just collapsing on the bed, but I was hungry and anyway, it really had been a while since I'd seen the guys. When I got back to the main room, Trowa was typing, probably his mission report, and Quatre was sitting at the little table in the kitchen. He was eating some rice and there was a plate full of food across from him.

"For me?" I asked.

He nodded, and swallowed. "It's really good. Trowa's a good cook."

"It's rice, Quatre," said Trowa.

"Well, it's good. I couldn't cook anything like this."

"You ever try?" As I sat down, I wondered why I felt like praying…Oh, yeah, it was the people. I'm not used to sitting at a table with other people, but I used to do that all the time, back at the church. Hilde prayed before meals sometimes, too, if one of us actually cooked and we both took the time to sit down.

Quatre shook his head. "Not really. I wanted Rashid to show me, but the few times I tried…" He laughed, and I smiled. It was good to have real food and to hear my friend laugh.

"That bad?"

He was turning red. "I made mathlutha once and Rashid and Abdul ate it, but they didn't seem very happy about it. I felt so bad."

"Aw, I'm sure you'll learn," I said between mouthfuls. I didn't know what mathlutha was, but it was probably crappy anyway. Quatre's always putting yogurt in dishes you would never want to see anywhere near the stuff. Thank God I come from the land of cheeseburgers.

"I wouldn't even let Quatre near the cotton candy machine."

"Trowa!"

So, Operation QT seemed to be going well. I'd have to get a minute alone with Quatre and ask him about it. "Ya'll thirsty?" I asked. Trowa looked up, and I got up to get the booze. I found some glasses in the cabinet and poured two. "Want some?" I asked Quatre.

He shook his head. "No thank you, as always."

I handed Trowa his glass. He took a sip and blanched. "What is this?"

"Good ol' mountain moonshine, son! Drink up!" I took a hearty swig and coughed. Quatre laughed.

The liquor was hell, but it was working faster than the dinner. I started singing while Q and I washed the dishes and Trowa finished his report. I should have been working on mine, too, but whatever. Une knows I get'em in sooner or later. Quatre, on the other hand, had probably been dictating on the ride over here.

Suddenly Trowa closed the laptop, stood up, and took off his shirt. I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one staring at his impossibly hard, tanned torso. Damn. Then he started unbuttoning his jeans. Oh, fuck. I didn't even look at Quatre.

"Excuse me?" I said. I didn't want him to stop, I was just curious, you know. A guy starts getting naked in front of you and you just want to know what kind of response he's looking for before you go jumping to conclusions.

"There's a hot tub on the deck," he said, standing there in his boxers.

Well, whaddayaknow. A hot tub. I thanked God and whoever was in charge of Preventers accommodations. I'm usually more into chicks than dudes, but the nearest chick was Bobby Jo Hilljack, a seventeen year-old with five kids, and let's face it, Trowa's hot. He's got male model looks with a feminine sensibility and…anyway, it's so fucking hot. There's a big difference between an arrogant jerk and a ripped, half-naked arrogant jerk in a hot tub.

Trowa took his drink and walked his sweet ass out the back door. I was about to follow, but Quatre was heading for his bedroom. Torn between friendship and tail, I took the high road and turned to Quatre. He had dibs anyway. "You gonna join?" I asked.

"Uh, no thanks, there are rules about…swimming…and things…"

Rules about swimming? I'd been to several of his houses—there's some sort of pool or fountain every ten steps, almost. He had to be making excuses. Hell, unlike me, he might actually get something out of tonight besides eye candy. The dude rule is if you can't get any yourself, at least help your friends out. "Come on," I said. "It's just us."

"Exactly." He turned and went into his room. I followed him. He needed my help. Trowa needed my help. More than anything, I needed help, because if I kept drinking and it was just me and Trowa out there I was liable to do something stupid and then I'd wake up bald or something. Or worse, I'd wake up with Trowa, and then Quatre would be pissed at me. I definitely didn't want that.

Quatre opened the closet and started refolding clothes, and I sat on the bed. "Come on, Quatre, just come out with us for a little bit. We're just gonna hang out."

"I said no, Duo."

"Aw, man…I haven't seen you in so long, and you're just gonna go to bed without even talking to me. You're gonna leave Trowa out there without you, all alone, wet and naked—"

"Shut up, Duo."

Sometimes I have this problem where my mouth runs along without my brain. Sometimes, that gets me into trouble. But has that ever stopped me? "What's with you two, anyway?" I asked from my spot on his bed. "Have you even kissed yet? If I was you, he'd have so been fucked by n—"

The next instant I found myself pinned to the bed, with Quatre on top of me, his forearm pressed across my throat and what felt suspiciously like a knife poking me in the side. "I said cut it out," he hissed. I couldn't decide which was more frightening—my lack of air, the knife, or the determined fury in Quatre's eyes.

"Sorry!" I wheezed. Maybe I could throw him off, but I didn't like the thought of being stabbed in the process. Wait it out? Or was he seriously going to kill me?

"Don't talk about it, don't talk about him, I don't. Want. To hear about it."

My buzz cleared and I was hyperaware of the point where metal was piercing my shirt and stinging the skin just under my ribcage. I tried to swallow, and nodded as best I could.

Even through this sudden attack of crazy, he was still Quatre, and forgiveness was his greatest weakness. As he started to relax and lean back, I grabbed the wrist that held the knife and lunged at him. We struggled, but even though he's stronger, I'm better at hand-to-hand and in a minute he was face down on the bed and I was straddling his legs and holding his arms behind his back.

"Listen to me," I said. "Just one thing and then I'm done. Hold still and listen, okay, dumbass? I don't know what your problem is, but you've gotta get over it, because he's waiting for you and you're lucky to have someone like that. He's got issues too, but he's willing to work with you, don't you see that? And pulling a knife on me, for fuck's sake! I'm your fucking friend!" I got up and stood next to the bed. Quatre rolled over and sat up Indian-style with his hands clutching his knees. His shoulders rose and fell rapidly and he glared at a spot on the bed. I'd never seen him so pissed, and I wondered if he was going to try it again. I backed away. "I'm going outside," I said. "It's a nice night, I've got booze and a hot tub and a hot guy and damned if I'm gonna waste it 'cause you're an idiot."

Then he looked right at me. "I'll kill you," he said.

I raised my hands. "Fine, he's all yours."

"Duo, don't—" Suddenly his anger seemed to break and his shoulders slumped. There was a hitch in his voice when he spoke. "I'm sorry, Duo, I'm so sorry, just leave me alone, okay? If you like Trowa, that's fine, I'll be happy for you."

"I don't want to marry the guy, I'm just horny."

"Don't say those things," he said quietly.

"Whatever, man. Now I'm just pissed. You wouldn't have anything to worry about, anyway, he's so far up…" I stopped, and tried again. "He's so into you." Was I really this jealous? I hadn't realized it before, and I felt bad. I'd thought that I was happy that two of my friends seemed to be getting along so well, but where had all this anger come from? Why had I pushed him like that?

"I'm really sorry, Duo." He hung his head and dammit, he was probably crying. Fuck fuck fuck. Only Quatre can make you feel bad for making him want to kill you.  
"Dude…" I ran my hands through my hair and sighed. "Are you okay?"

He nodded.

"You need a tissue or something?"

He shook his head no.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm going outside, okay?"

Another nod. I made sure to take the knife out with me.

Trowa was standing in the living room, dripping on the carpet. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Well, what could I say to that? And how had he known something was up? "I'm not sure."

He walked past me and knocked on the door. "Quatre?"

Sound of a throat clearing, and then Quatre said, "Yes?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm…I'm fine."

"Can I come in?"

"No, um, I'll be out in a minute."

Trowa looked at me. "What happened?"

"We had a fight," I said, well aware of how stupid that sounded, well aware of how dangerous it was to say that to Trowa.

Without taking his eyes off me, Trowa said, "Are you sure, Quatre?"

"I'm sure! I'll be out there in a minute!"

"Is he okay?" he asked me.

I really, really, wanted to make a joke about PMS, but I held it back and went to find my booze. "Yeah, we're cool, he's just not feeling well."

I couldn't tell how he took that, but we walked outside and he didn't try to kill me or anything, so it wasn't too bad. I hung my clothes on the railing of the deck and slid into the tub. It was just like that Bugs Bunny cartoon where they're cooking him. I let myself sink down into the steaming water and didn't worry about getting my hair wet. After that fucking scene with Quatre I didn't want to worry about anything.

Well, there was one thing.

"We're gonna run out," I said, holding up the bottle. What with the two of us slugging it down, one bottle wasn't going to last very long, even in a hot tub. Trowa can put it away, man, even though I don't think he ever drinks with anyone but me anymore. All his "this one time we were drunk" stories are about ten years old, from back when he was a merc. When he was like, ten. Dude is kind of a bad-ass.

He grabbed the bottle and took a swig. "There's a stash in the cabinet," he said as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Yeah? What is this place, anyway?"

"Used to belong to some Oz officer, before the wars."

"That explains the whip I found under the bed." I thought it was pretty funny, but he didn't even smile. Whatever. Be pissed at me, you jerk. I didn't even do anything. "I didn't even do anything," I told him.

He looked at me, and I know it was supposed to make me feel bad, but all I noticed was the intensity. His eyes were green, and in the hot tub, with the steam rising up and the water swirling around his smooth chest, the way his hair fell over his face was delicate and sexy. I followed the line from his hair to his nose to his lips and I leaned forward. Sorry, Quatre, I'm so sorry…I have such good intentions…

"What," I said, trying not move. There was something here I didn't want to disturb.

Trowa started to say something, his lips opened, he paused…

I reached out to take the bottle and took my time about it. He held it back for a moment and I had to move toward him to get better leverage. Or that's what I told myself. Fuck, stop it, Maxwell, you told Quatre there was nothing to worry about. Of course there was nothing to worry about, Trowa was a responsible guy. I couldn't help the way I was, nobody expected me to act any differently. Trowa, though. It was up to Trowa to make the decisions here.

Thoughts started to run together in my head. I wanted so bad to touch him, I imagined the way he'd breathe if, when, I started kissing him. Trowa, you fag, please let me kiss you let me touch you let me feel you

He let go of the bottle and I fell back into the water. Fuck. Oh, what a great night this was turning out to be. I took a long drink and fought the urge to spit it back out. Take it like a man, Maxwell!

Maxwell. Ha, what a funny name. It's funny when you name yourself, because then you know there's a worldly reason for being and not something like fate or God's Plan or something.

"Do you like the name Trowa?" I asked Trowa.

He shrugged. "It's what everyone calls me."

"Do you like it."

He looked at me. "I would have picked something else."

"Like what?"

"I don't know."

"You'd be a Jorge or a Julio or something."

He smiled, and I congratulated myself. I don't get that from him very often.

"Is Quatre okay?" he asked.

Damn. Fuck that blond kid, but hey, who could be mad at him? "No," I said. "He's fucking crazy." I took another drink and leaned back. "Does he ever talk about…about Zero?"

Trowa shook his head. "He's mentioned it, but not enough for me to figure it out. I know it's still with him."

"Yeah, I know. Just now he was all freaking out on me—"

"Just now? Should I go check on him?" Trowa started to lift himself out of the water, but then we heard the door open.

"I'm fine," said Quatre.

I wanted to look at Trowa, because there was no way our conversation had been overheard, but Quatre held my gaze. He was standing there in the cold, in his dumb button up shirt and khakis, staring at us like he didn't know where we were or why we were there. I felt guilty even though I hadn't done anything. Except flirt, but you know, I always flirt. Everybody knew that. Quatre knew that, he knew I didn't mean anything by it.

"Hey, Quatre," I said, because it's hard not to be nice to him.

Quatre perched himself on the railing and stared at the wooden slats on the floor. After a minute of that, I got bored and looked at Trowa. He was still staring at Quatre.

Holy fuck, these two were boring. No wonder Quatre was so pissed, if this was all they did. "Helluva interesting floor there," I said. Nobody even blinked. I sighed loudly. Nothing. I stretched and said, "Well…"

Oh my god, no one was paying any attention to me at all. This sucked so hard. "Nobody cares if I get a little more comfortable?"

Trowa was still staring at Quatre, who was still staring at the floor. Fun times. I took off my shorts and threw them on the floor. That earned me a glance from both of them, and for a second I thought things were looking up. Threesome, yes, come on threesome, but Quatre blushed and looked away and then Trowa was back to staring at Quatre.

What's a guy got to do, anyway? "Well," I said, "I'm going to bed." I was pretty sure both of them watched me walk away, but it was small consolation for a night of solitary drinking. There was a movie on the laptop I hadn't watched yet, but at that point, I didn't care. There was no Internet connection, so I called HQ on the land line to check in , and went back outside to tell the guys the good news. They were still in the same spots, maybe they hadn't even said anything. Maybe they hadn't even blinked.

"Hey," I said. "Things are kinda hot, we're supposed to hang out here for a few days."

Quatre nodded.

"I'm gonna take a shower and go to bed, anybody want to join?"

No response.

I sighed and went back inside.

I must have passed out after the shower, because the next thing I knew after that was Quatre sitting down on the edge of my bed. "Duo?"

"Huh?"

"Duo, are you awake?"

"Sure, sure." I yawned and laid the side of my head against my pillow. I wasn't too thrilled about being woken up, but he sounded like he wanted to talk, and it's so damn hard to refuse Quatre.

"I'm really sorry about earlier. I would never hurt you, Duo, I don't know why I do things like that…I do know, but I mean, when I'm thinking clearly, I would never do that."

"Don't worry about it. Seriously. I can take you."

"Thank goodness. I don't know how I made it through the wars. It's scary, when you can't trust yourself."

"Quatre…Don't be so down. Nobody's perfect, and that includes you. Everybody acts a little crazy sometimes."

"Duo…" I felt him shift his position on the bed, and I waited for him to continue. "I almost killed him once, and I'm afraid I'll do it again. I don't want to hurt him. He's already been through so much, he shouldn't have to suffer any more…especially because of me."

"I'm the fucking God of Death, I know how you feel," I said.

"But you haven't been that for a while," he pointed out.

"Yeah, I guess. Lucky for you guys, huh? Ha ha ha."

Quatre continued as if he hadn't heard me. "I'm afraid. I'm afraid that even though the Gundams are destroyed, Zero is still with me. I did such horrible things, and even now, I have such a hard time keeping my emotions in check. Especially regarding him."

"Why is that?" I asked, knowing why but wanting him to admit it.

"I'm conflicted," he said. "Please don't judge me, Duo, I'm not like you."

"And how's that?" I tried to keep the amusement out of my voice, but no dice. What he thought of my lifestyle would certainly be entertaining, and fortunately for me he was too honest to ignore the bait.

"You know. How you feel about people. You follow your own conscience and make yourself happy."

"Are you calling me a slut?"

"Oh, no no no! It's not a bad thing, it's just different. Although I do worry about you. Some people might take advantage of you. Or you might…get sick."

I laughed. "I'm pretty careful," I said.

"I hope so. I worry about you."

Well, this conversation was getting a little uncomfortable. Time to turn it back around. "If it's not so bad, why not adopt my philosophy? What's holding you back?"

He took a deep breath. "Well, there's what I said before, and…I don't think it's right. Please understand, even if I did come to see it as acceptable, I have so many years of teaching, of socialization, of expectations, to get over. And I can't just consider myself. I have obligations to my family and to the colonies."

"What's that got to do with bangin' a guy?"

"It's not just that, Duo, I'm in love with him!"

I still didn't get it, but his last outburst had been so…anguished, that I decided to let it go.

"I love him and the more I try to put it out of my head, the harder it gets to think of anything else. It's torture to be around him, and yet when we're apart I feel like something is missing, like I'm not myself, I'm not strong enough to go on by myself, and all I want to do is see him again. I know I should stop, but I don't want to. I just keep putting myself in these situations with him, hoping…"

I cleared my throat. It was a pretty familiar story. "The good news is, he feels the same way about you."

"I wish he didn't. That would solve it. I could just…move on—" That stung a little, and even in the dark, he noticed. Good ol' Quatre, he tried to make things better and only made them worse. "I mean, I'm sorry. You and Heero. I don't mean to imply, or to say, that you ever acted, I mean, that I would behave any differently. I don't know what I would do if Trowa didn't…I'm sorry, I'm an idiot."

"I'm an idiot too," I said. "I didn't realize the affairs of my heart were so generally known."

"You're very easy to read," he said apologetically.

Was I? Damn it. "I'll work on that," I said.

"Do you…Are you still…"

"What, Heero? Naw, I'm over that."

"Duo…" he said gently, then, "You're much better looking than her, anyway."

I laughed. "Thanks, man." Then I yawned. Fuck, it was too early for this shit. "So what are you gonna do about our boy Trowa?"

"I don't know. I guess, eventually, all this will calm down and we can just be friends."

"You have to make a decision, you know." I snuggled deeper into the warm covers.

"I know. The pure and noble way, or the 'to hell with it, I love him' way."

"Quatre," I said. My eyes were closed now and it was getting harder to remember what I wanted to say. "You are pure and noble. Whatever you do, will be the right thing."

"That's the worst advice ever," he said.

I didn't answer. He shuffled around on the bed.

"Duo?"

"Hm."

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

"Sure," I said, and almost started to tease him about wanting to sleep with me, but I was afraid that would make him leave. I held up the end of the covers and he crawled in next to me.

"Hey, Duo."

"Mm." Someone was talking to me, but I wasn't ready to wake up yet.

"I'm going to go get some breakfast, okay? Do you want to get up?"

I opened my eyes and saw Quatre laying next to me with his head propped up by his hand. A large pink t-shirt hung off of his shoulders and he looked so cute, his hair all messed up and that sort of soft and sleepy look still on his face. Break my heart, why don't you.

"Hey," I said.

He looked down and pulled at a string on the hem of the sheet. "Um, thank you for talking to me. It really made me fell better."

"Thanks for hanging out."

He smiled at me and said, "I'm going to get breakfast and see if Trowa is up."

"Okay." I didn't want him to go; it had been nice having somebody around. He got out of bed and I pulled the covers back around me to keep the cold out. The door closed behind him, and I hugged the pillow and fell back asleep.

When I finally did get up, I was still stuck in the mountains with an emotional Quatre and an edgy Trowa. They occupied themselves by sitting outside and talking. I decided to join them, but not before I poured myself a drink, because there wasn't any reason not to. That had been happening more and more lately. It bothered me a little, but not enough to make me stop. In all three of my jobs—Preventers, Sweepers, the scrapyard—my bosses were my friends, so they didn't say anything if I was a little late in the morning or a little tipsy after lunch. Or anyway, they hadn't said anything yet. I was kinda waiting for it, to tell the truth, if only to make sure that I wasn't alone in my crazy world. I wanted someone to tell me, "Hey, man, you're screwing up and here's what you should do to fix it." Instead, everyone just seemed to expect it, which pissed me off and made me want to drink more.

Okay, and I also liked to drink. A lot. I'd been doing it ever since I could remember, and let me tell you, it just got better and better. It was expensive, but in the end, alcohol had always been there for me and I was willing to spend a few bucks and a few nights passed out in the bathroom in return.

Being around Quatre always made me feel kinda bad about it though. Before noon I was already on my way to being smashed. Quatre was politely pretending not to notice, so I poured another glass and started again.

The day passed by in a blur and then I was resting my spinning head on the floor, trying to get the image of Q and T on the couch to hold still. I'd just spent a little while out in the hot tub, but it was so lonely out there. Nothing to do but drink, kick the bubbles around, try to keep the bottles from sinking, think about the shit hole that was my life and wonder why I still wanted to think about Heero even though he hadn't talked to me in forever. Wonder if I'd killed anyone the day before. No one to talk to. That's why I'd come back to the living room, but getting up so quickly had made me dizzy—ha ha—and I was just laying down to rest for a minute—Wait! Did I have clothes on? "Do I have clothes on?" I asked. No one answered me, so I put my hand down to check. Ah, a towel. That was a relief. I hate passing out naked in front of people I know.

I looked back at the love-birds. As far as I could tell, Quatre was hugging a pillow and Trowa was beside him with his arm around him. Ah-ha! I tried to smile, but it was so much effort. Hold still, you bastards!

"I don't know what to do with you, Quatre," said Trowa.

"I don't know what to do with me either!" said Quatre mournfully.

"Fuck'im!" I said. "Get'r done!"

Trowa frowned, and Quatre sighed and got up to come over and look at me. "Are you okay?"

"Sure," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "Don't let me interrupt. 'm just gonna lay here a minute."

"You don't look so good. And, you're getting the carpet wet."

Fucking fags. I grabbed his arm and he helped me up. Oh, shit. That did not feel good. " 'Scuse me," I said, and ran to the bathroom, where I promptly puked my guts out. I reeled for a minute, stared, and staggered back up.

I stumbled out of the bathroom and leaned on the kitchen table. "Why is my puke fucking red?" I demanded. "I had, like, one spoonful of salsa. My puke should not be red!"

Quatre looked thoughtful. "I don't think we've eaten anything red. What did you eat yesterday?"

"It's a mystery," said Trowa. I swear, I can't tell when he's making fun of me.

"Are you okay?" Quatre asked.

"Oh, yeah, fine. Rally time!" I adjusted the towel around my waist, glared defiantly, and took another swig of moonshine. Damn. It didn't even make it all the way down to my stomach before my body tried to reject it. Curse my small frame. I ran back to the bathroom.

As I knelt in the bathroom with my head against the toilet, I pondered my life so far. I couldn't believe I didn't have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. I mean, I had the most potential for a date (except for bisexual chicks, because, let's face it, girls are way more likely to be open to same-sex fooling around than guys), and I'd never had a serious relationship that lasted more than two months. I couldn't count Hilde, because Hilde was a whole different story, and Heero was just something different altogether. Other than those two, I'd never cared for anyone romantically, although I was willing to give up romantic in exchange for determined. It would just be nice to wake up next to the person I'd fallen asleep with the night before. Hilde, in her honest moments, said I got what I ask for. If you act like all you want is a piece of tail, that's all you'll get, she said. But that's not all I wanted. I wanted someone to stick with me. I wanted someone who got my jokes, who'd make dinner when I didn't know how or I was too tired, someone who would be waiting for me when I got home from a job. That's what I wanted. Just somebody there.

For the moment, I had that. As long as HQ was telling us to stay put, I had two friends who were going to keep an eye on me and also cook. Kick ass.

But thinking about food made my stomach gurgle again, and I threw up. Again. Lord, I had to get out of here.

However, now that my stomach was empty, I felt much better. Still light-headed, dripping all over the place, and fairly disgusted with the results of my body's refusing to hold that much alcohol, but a lot better. I wiped my mouth on a piece of toilet paper and pulled myself up by grabbing the sink counter. Somehow, I made it back out into the main room, where I found a bottle of Wild Turkey.

"Don't," I heard Quatre say.

I turned around and swung the bottle in exasperation. "What the fuck else is there to do?"

"We could play a game," Quatre suggested.

At that, Trowa looked about as enthused as I felt, which is to say, he looked like he always did and I felt like I'd rather watch paint dry. But we didn't even have any fucking paint. "Like what?" I asked. "A drinking game?"

"Hm. Like…"

"Do not even say 'I Spy.'"

"I wasn't going to say that." But he blushed a little. "Well, we could play…"

"Or 20 Questions, or tiddly-winks, or any other shitty game like that."

Quatre frowned. Apparently the last time he'd played a game was kindergarten. Actually, I felt kinda bad about that, it was probably true.

Trowa held up a deck of cards. "We could play poker."

"You two could play poker," said Quatre.

"What are we gonna bet with?" I asked.

"Strip poker?"

"I don't believe this. We're all going to hell."

"Quatre, I've killed more men than I can count. I'm not afraid of a little strip poker." I turned to Trowa. "Except that I'm only wearing a towel."

Trowa shrugged. "Are you afraid, or aren't you?"

Well, Quatre eventually talked us down to gin rummy, and I went and put on jeans and a t-shirt anyway. Quatre made tea, and we sat down at the table to play. I don't know if you've ever played rummy with Gundam pilots, but it's vicious. Even though Quatre had never played before, he lost no time in picking up the rules and kicking my ass. But only because I was intoxicated.

"You're counting cards," I said to Trowa.

"It's rummy," he said.

"You're cheating!"

"You're trying to," he countered.

He had me there. I grinned and eyed the ace Quatre had discarded. "To pick up or not to pick up…"

"Go ahead," said Trowa.

"But then you'll go out, and I'll have 15 negative points."

"Maybe, but that's the chance you take."

Ooh, that fucker. His one visible green eye stared at me over the three cards in his hand. What were they? Ah, what the hell. "Livin' on the edge!" I said, and picked up the ace to go with the one in my hand, and discarded a two.

Trowa snatched it up, laid out the two, three, and four of diamonds, and put the fucking king I'd been looking for the whole damn time in the discard pile.

"Out," he said.

"Ooh, good job Trowa!" said Quatre, as happy as if he'd won himself. Goddammit, I wish I had a cheerleader.

"Fuck," I said, and counted up my score. "Negative 30. What's the standings now?"

"Well, Trowa's ahead now, then it's me, then you."

"Fuck!" I said again, with more enthusiasm. I wasn't really mad, but it's no fun if you don't take it too seriously.

We played a few more rounds, and then Quatre, who'd been up half the night thinking too much and up the other half of the night talking to me, went to bed. It was dark outside, and I was leaning that way myself, until Trowa brought up strip poker again.

"You just want to get naked, don't you?"

"I just want to beat you," he said. He poured himself a drink and we sat down in the middle of the floor.

Even though I made him take off his socks and shoes, to make it more fair, I was down to my boxers before I saw one more inch of skin on him. "I don't like this," I said.

"Okay," he said. "New rules. Truth or dare poker. First one to back out loses."

"Did you learn these games at merc school, or did Quatre pick them up at Relena's Palace for Perfectly Peaceful Princesses?" Given my state of inebriation, I was pretty proud of that alliteration. Fucking good rhymes too, man.

"Deal," said Trowa.

By the end of the game, I was down the truths of Yes, I had the hots for Heero Yuy, I would rather sleep with Dorothy Catalonia than Lady Une, Yes, if Heero walked in right now I would stop whatever I was doing and confess my love, No, I'd never cross-dressed, what kind of question was that, Yes, Trowa looking at me in just my boxers was arousing, and I'd also won the dare of writing an obscene and scary letter to Dorothy, which I also promised to send. (Trowa assured me that she would love it, and that she would probably make me marry her.) Trowa was only down the truths of Yes, he also had the hots for Heero, although not like he used to, If he had to sleep with a woman he would pick Sally and I could not ever tell Wufei, and No, the furthest he'd gotten with Quatre was dry-humping, which Quatre adorably called "making out." As a freebie, he also told me that he would rather sleep with Lady Une than Dorothy. He was also down the dare of making out with me.

It wasn't like he was really taken. I mean, he and Quatre weren't Facebook official or anything. If they really wanted to be together, they wouldn't be just fucking around like this. There was nothing I could do about Heero, but Quatre could have had Trowa and he didn't want him. So I dared him to kiss me, he called quits, I called him a tease, we started making out anyway.

Somewhere in the midst of the kissing and groping and heavy breathing, we both became of aware of something. I pulled my mouth off his neck and looked up. He was underneath me, so he sort of had to turn his head unnaturally sideways and back, but he too looked toward the hallway.

"Uh…" I said.

"Sorry," said Quatre. "I'm…excuse me." But he kept staring at us.

"It's not what it looks like?" I tried.

"Just…what are you doing?" Quatre asked.

Trowa's head was back in a normal position, and he was staring at the ceiling, doing his usual Trowa thing of not saying anything. Oh, great help there. Thanks, man. Way to help me out. "Uh…" I said again. I guess I could have let him up, but at the moment I was kind of stuck for what to do. I mean, what's the etiquette for making out with your friend's boyfriend? Sending a fucking thank-you note?

"Sorry." Quatre disappeared back into his room.

I looked at Trowa and bit my lip. "Um."

He pushed me off and sat with his feet flat and his knees sticking up. Resting his arm on his knee, he let his head drop into his hand.

"Wanna drink?" I asked, as quietly as I could.

He looked at me with a mixture of I-don't-know-what. I thought maybe he was going to cry, and at the same time I was really scared that he might try to kill me. I scooted back a little bit. "Should we go talk to him?"

He took a deep breath and let it out in staggers. Well, what did that mean. Yes, no, go fuck yourself? Probably go fuck yourself.

Fuck. Now I wanted to cry. And throw up.

Trowa stood up and pulled his shirt back on (when had it been taken off? Things were a little blurry). He went to Quatre's door and knocked. To my surprise, it opened a little and Quatre stuck his head out.

"I'm really sorry, Trowa."

"Quatre…" Trowa sighed heavily. "I'm sorry."

Oh, damn me, these two. I was almost not sorry, because if they were going to be so lame they deserved whatever crap happened to them.

"Don't be sorry," said Quatre. "I don't have any claim on you. Whatever you choose to do has no effect on me. I apologize for making things so awkward."

"Hey, Quatre…" I started, but he said, without looking at me, "I don't think I want to talk to you."

"Listen, I didn't mean for this to happen and really, it's nothing…"

"Oh, it's nothing?" Now he glared at me. "It doesn't matter at all that you—It doesn't matter who you were kissing? You would have done what you were going to do and just forgotten about it?"

"I wouldn't have forgotten about it…" I mumbled.

"And you!" He turned to Trowa, who stared at the door between them. "It doesn't matter to you either, does it? You two can just do whatever you want. You"—he looked at me—"never had anyone to answer to and you rejected what little decency you ever encountered in your degenerate life because it would have interfered with what you wanted. And you"—back to Trowa—"never had the courage to feel anything at all! It's not that easy for me, things matter to me! I can't just stop caring. Even for something as trivial as sex appears to be. But you two, go do whatever you want. Just leave me alone. I don't have anything to do with this."

He started to close the door, but Trowa stepped in the way and grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hallway, holding him against the wall.

"Leave me alone," said Quatre. "Don't you understand, stay away—!" He twisted to pull his arm away, but Trowa held on.

"Listen, Quatre," he said quietly.

"No! Are you stupid?" Tears were streaming down his face and he looked like he was trying to back away, but there was no where to go. What the fuck was going on? I stood there, watching. Quatre kept talking. "It'll be just like last time, Trowa, I don't want to hurt you! Leave me alone!"

"No," said Trowa. "You can't hurt me. I thought I proved that. This time I'm going to stay with you."

"I don't want you to! I'm not what you think I am, what you want me to be. Leave…me…alone!" His arms hung at his sides, his fists clenched.

I wished that God would do me one fucking favor in my life and strike me down, right there and then. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want either of them to get hurt, but what could I do? It was between them.

"Quatre." Trowa tried to pull him closer.

"God…! Leave me alone!" The words barely made it out, and he put his head in Trowa's shoulder. Trowa put his arms around him and held him.

I grabbed a bottle and slunk out the deck.

A while later, I opened the back door and leaned against the door frame. The living room was dark, but I could make out the forms of Quatre and Trowa lying on the couch. There was no noise or movement, so I stepped in and tried to close the door as quietly as I could. It was probably time to get out of there—I'd just lost two of the only friends I had, a realization the whiskey couldn't quite erase—but would I make it down the hill on my bike in the dark? Highly unlikely. As shitty as I felt, I didn't deserve to die. That's a privilege Shinigami doesn't have.

I glanced at them one more time before I went into my bedroom. I hoped they were okay.

I woke up late the next morning, and slipped into the bathroom to shower. I didn't see Q and T anywhere.

The living room was still empty when I got out, but there were some dishes drying next to the sink, so I knew they were up. I grabbed a box of cereal and looked around for something to wash it down with. Nada. Must've finished it all off last night. Or Quatre had gotten rid of it. Well, one way or the other, it was going to be my last day here, screw HQ. I was thirsty as hell though, so I filled up a glass of water and consoled myself with the thought that in a few hours, I could be at a bar. No way I was staying here with two possibly homicidal special agents I may have pissed off beyond reason. And no alcohol. I was honestly worried about that. I didn't want to sit around and think about my wasted life. I'd rather just be wasted. Plus, by now I wasn't sure if I could stay sober. I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone a whole twenty-four hours without a drink, and I wasn't anxious to try it now. What if it turned out that I couldn't? I didn't want to be sober when I found out that I was an alcoholic.

I looked out the window at the deck. Nobody there. I went out front and there they were, sitting on the edge of the porch in the sun.

"Hey," I said, eating a handful of cereal.

"Good morning," said Quatre, turning around to look at me. Trowa just flicked a piece of dirt off his jeans.

I stood there munching for a minute while Quatre squinted at me and some birds sang in the trees around the cabin. I tried not to think about anything.

"I'm sorry about last night," said Quatre, blushing. "I'm so embarrassed."

"I'm sorry, man," I said. "I really…really didn't mean to upset you."

"And I'm sorry…if I said anything…"

"Hey, don't worry about it." I shrugged. "Nice day, huh?"

"Yeah." He turned back to look out at the over-grown driveway and narrow road.

"Hey, Trowa," I said. "I'm sorry I'm so hot you can't resist me."

"I'm sorry your self-esteem is so low you need that kind of attention," he drawled, without even turning his head.

"Sorry you're a douchebag."

"Sorry you're a slut."

"I'm sorry you're gay."

"I'm not." He grinned. Oh, damn, he was so gay.

Even Quatre kind of smiled at that one, but he said, "Come on, guys."

I chugged the glass of water and leaned against the front of the cabin. Q and T kept looking out toward the road.

"I guess I'm gonna head out," I said.

"Yeah," said Quatre. "We are too."

"Yeah." I poured some cereal into my mouth. Man, I really wanted bacon and eggs. And hash browns. Definitely Waffle House time. Now that I knew Quatre was at least acting normal toward me and Trowa and I were back to normal, I didn't feel bad about eating. I went inside to throw my stuff back in the backpack. Helluva good vacation.

It didn't take long to pack, and it didn't take long to grab a few of Quatre's granola bars and some other stuff from the kitchen. I went back outside and stepped around Quatre and Trowa on the step to go check out the bike. Ready to go. I turned around. "Well," I said.

"Be careful," said Quatre.

"Yeah, you too. Hey, I'm gonna be around L2 for the next couple of months, I think, if you want to stop by."

"Well, you can come by my place any time. I might visit Miss Noin soon, if you want to meet up there."

"Yeah, I'll think about it." I looked down at the bike. "If you, uh, run into Heero, or you hear from him or anything…" Suddenly I felt like an idiot. No one was buying this. I cleared my throat. "I mean, if you think about it, you could let me know how he's doing." Shit. Fuck. Heero. "Okay, I'm gonna go now."

"Take care of yourself," said Quatre.

I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay and listen to him, and to hear him tell me again that we were okay, to just be near him. But who knew how long this calm mood would last. Best to clear out before he snapped again. "You too, man." I was worried about him, but I could see there was nothing I could do. Maybe Trowa would be able to help him. "See you, Tro," I said, waving.

He grunted.

I got on the bike, and took off down the hill as fast as I could.

To be continued, at some point. Will Quatre get over his issues and get with Trowa? Will Duo find some fulfillment in his empty life? And what the hell is everyone else up to? Find out in the probably-Quatre-POV story that will be coming soon! Guaranteed to have more actual action of all sorts! Sex, guns, mental acrobatics! Don't miss it!


End file.
